


Oaths

by chaosmanor



Series: The Gift [10]
Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-11
Updated: 2003-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosmanor/pseuds/chaosmanor





	Oaths

More FPS. Bookverse.  
This chapter refers briefly to events in the prequel, which I haven't posted yet. Bear with me, folks, the prequel is next.

 

 

Aragorn came back to his tent late. He and the other Captains had met once more after dinner that night and had spent hours considering maps and listening to reports from scouts. There was much to plan and much to finalise before they marched in the morning, and much to say. They had discussed the possibility that they would find battle the next day, after crossing the river at Osgiliath and drawing near Minus Morgul. Aragorn believed that Sauron's forces would first engage them then.

 

His tent was empty when he returned to camp, and he went in search of Legolas at the campfire. His eyes took a moment to adjust, and then he saw Legolas standing back from the fire, partly hidden by the shadows. Aragorn was able to approach Legolas, close enough to touch him, before the elf responded to his presence.

"You're deep in thought," said Aragorn, taking one of Legolas' hands in his.

"Yes," said Legolas, his eyes shining with the firelight. "I was remembering."

"Things long past?" asked Aragorn.

Legolas shook his head slightly. "No. The recent past. The Fellowship. Frodo and Sam. Boromir," he said. "Eregion, Moira, Lorien, Anduin, Rohan, Lebennin, Pelennor. We have been so far."

Aragorn nodded. "You are alone tonight?" he asked.

"Elladan and Elrohir have gone to Eomer's camp in search of sport. Gimli has drunk himself into a stupor and the Rangers have carried him to his bed. I was waiting for you," said Legolas.

 

When Legolas entered the tent he bent donw to examine a pile of armour that was placed on the floor. As Aragorn lit the lamp, Legolas traced the markings on the breast plate. With the lamp lit, the markings gleamed. Legolas looked up at Aragorn and said "The White Tree and the Seven Stars?"

Aragorn knelt beside him and traced the stars. "Yes. Tomorrow I ride as King of Gondor and Arnor," he said.

"We ride to our deaths, don't we?" said Legolas, reaching out to stroke Aragorn's cheek.

"Yes," said Aragorn, turning his full attention to the elf. "Though we do not say the words amongst the Men."

In the light of the lamp, Legolas' hair was yellow gold, and his eyes dark blue, and the bruising on his faced showed despite the shadows. The man gently traced his fingertips over the bruising, feeling Legolas respond as he had that morning. Aragorn knew that Legolas had never been more beautiful than at that moment. "I may be King of Arnor and Gondor, but I have nothing of value to give you," said Aragorn. "Let me love you tonight, until we are both unable to move, for this will be the last time."

Legolas answered by brushing the softest of kisses across Aragorn's mouth.

 

* * * *

 

The grey light of dawn found Legolas awake, with an exhausted Aragorn sprawled across him, asleep.

Legolas listened to each breath, and remembered each heartbeat, as he had the morning before. This time, his life was trickling away too. He knew he would go to Mandos' Halls when his body died, where he would live on. And Aragorn would go with him, and then he would pass through the Halls, to another place beyond the Circles of the World, where Men went. And they would be apart until Illuvator ended the world.

At Imladris he had found Aragorn, and now at Mordor he would lose him, and he could not bear that, and could not change that, and he could only trust Elbereth to give him the strength to continue when the time came.

 

The waking trumpet blew from across the Rohirrim camp, and Aragorn stirred beside him at its sound. Aragorn woke and stretched, and kissed him, and kissed him again and said, "Do you have a knife within reach?"

Legolas reached out a hand amongst his clothes and drew one of his long knives from its sheath. Aragorn sat up and reached across his own clothing for his dagger.

Legolas understood now why Aragorn asked for his blade. They were to seal a blood pact. Legolas did not know what the pact was, but knew he would take the oath, no matter what Aragorn asked him to do. He held his blade's handle in his left hand and drew a line across the middle of his right forearm. The blood welled instantly where the tip had slid, as his blades were always razor sharp.

Aragorn extended his right arm to Legolas in a warrior's embrace, blood already seeping down his arm. Legolas remembered when Aragorn had introduced himself at Imladris, and they had shared the same embrace, and gripped the man's right elbow tightly. The blood from both of them mingled where the cuts overlay each other, and Aragorn said, "I will always hold back one arrow so as by death I may prevent you being taken prisoner." An elvish vow that lovers exchanged before they rode to battle together.

Legolas looked up from their joined arms at Aragorn's face, and tears were running down the man's cheeks. "I promise," he said, choking as his own control broke.

Aragorn clamped his left hand over both of their arms, increasing the contact between them. "Legolas, you must promise me you will go West if you are able to, if you survive and I don't. Promise me you will not choose mortality. I cannot bear to carry the burden," Aragorn said.

Legolas thought briefly of how much pain he would feel if Aragorn died and he lived. He wanted to tell Aragorn that he would not be able to draw breath, never mind travel West, but Aragorn's fingers were digging into his forearm, urging him to promise.

Legolas stroked Aragorn's face with his left hand stained with blood. "I will go West. I promise," he pledged.

And then Aragorn was embracing him, and the air was full of the scent of blood, and the fresh blood was smearing across their backs and chests. Legolas could feel Aragorn's chest shaking with sobs, and could feel how hard Aragorn's cock was where it pressed against his thigh. His own body responded instantly, and then they were kissing ferociously, and he was moaning Aragorn's name through his tears.

Aragorn felt his passion rise, all the anger and longing inside him fuelling his cock, so that he pressed Legolas back on the blanket and reached down to lift the elf's leg to his chest. "Say yes, please, say yes," he begged, blinded by tears and desire.

And Legolas said, "Yes, yes," and was guided the man's cock into himself, and the entry was tight and painful because they had used no oil. And Legolas gave a small moan of pain, and the man froze.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, and he tried to pull out of Legolas' body, and found that Legolas was gripping his arms tightly around him, so as he could not pull away.

"Keep going, don't stop," Legolas pleaded.

And then Legolas relaxed, and his body opened, and they were fucking and it felt the best it ever had.

They clung together as they fucked, exchanging promises of love through tears and moans. Aragorn knew he would not last long, desire like this was too intense to sustain. And then Legolas' body tightened, and Aragorn could feel him reach a hand between them to grab his own cock, and then they were coming together, in one last embrace.

They were still entwined and panting when the apologetic voice of a Ranger at the tent flap called notice of breakfast.

"I suspect that wasn't quiet," said Aragorn as Legolas untangled himself from the blankets. When Legolas went to wring a cloth out in the bucket of clean water to wipe his body with Aragorn said, "Don't wash."

"Why not?" asked Legolas. "Is this a Ranger thing?"

"No," laughed Aragorn, his equilibrium returning. "I would just have you smell of me today."

Legolas laughed too and said "Unwashed Ranger," but he put down the damp cloth and began to pull on his clothes. "And any dwarf that teases me about riding funny can walk to Mordor."

 

****************************

 

Elrond stared at the two open letters before him on his desk. The first was from Aragorn, asking to be released from his betrothal vows to Arwen. Elrond had mixed feelings over the contents of the letter. He was deeply disappointed in Aragorn, and he felt betrayed by him. And he was elated that his precious daughter would be coming West with him, not choosing a silent, pointless death because of a mortal love.

The second letter was addressed to him too, but with magically visible additional script that read "Ada, please read this before you speak with Arwen." The letter had stunned and saddened him with its contents. Elladan and Elrohir had written to him with painful honesty, describing their doubts about Arwen and Aragorn's relationship, and giving their suspicions that she had entrapped Aragorn magically.

This was a serious charge, and that his sons could even suspect that their sister could do such a thing was a terrible blow to him. The possibility that the accusation could be true did not seem to be bearable.

He knew, and Arwen knew, as all elves did, that magically ensnaring or binding a partner was a betrayal of both the partner's trust, and of the Elvish ideal of love: that it was freely and honestly given, and that binding was by vows before Elbereth, not by magical coercion.

 

Elrond knocked on Arwen's door, listening for a reply, hearing nothing but stifled sobs. He pushed the door open, relieved Arwen had not locked herself in and forced him to climb through a window.

 

Arwen was in her bed chamber, sprawled facedown across her bed, sobbing. Elrond's paternal heart was torn apart by this, and he crouched down beside the bed and stroked her back.

They stayed like this as the sun moved across the sky and the shadows in the room lengthened. Eventually Arwen raised her head and sat up, holding out to her father a letter to read. "Ada, please read this," she said.

He took the letter from her and placed it on the bed. "He has written to me, too," he replied. "I do not need to read your letter."

"He does not love me anymore. How can he hurt me like this?"

Elrond sat on the bed next to her and drew her into his embrace, and said "I need to talk to you about this, and I need you to be honest. Will you do that?"

"Yes, Ada," she answered, her arms around him.

"Arwen. Did you use magic to begin your relationship with Aragorn? Or to encourage him? Or to stop him from wanting others?" asked Elrond.

"No, Ada. How could you think such a thing of me?" replied Arwen.

Elrond's sensitive eyes caught a flicker of guilt on his daughter's face and knew she had lied to him, and his heart ached as he realised what he was going to have to do. "Arwen, stand up," he said.

She stood, surprised at the hardness of his voice.

He stood to face her, and then turned her so the light of the setting sun falling through the window lit her face. He grasped her shoulders so she could not turn from him to hide her face.

"Arwen, I have never had to do this before, but I am your Lord as well as your father, and I insist that you answer truthfully. I insist that you swear a fealty oath to me. I insist that you, under this fealty oath, tell me the truth about Aragorn. Did you entrap him magically?" Elrond demanded.

Arwen began shaking, and tears streamed down her face. "Ada, please, do not make me tell," she sobbed.

Elrond hardened his heart against the tears, and forced his hands to relax their painful grip upon her shoulders. "So you did entrap him?" he asked. He dropped his hands from her shoulders, suddenly unable to hurt his daughter anymore, and pulled her into an embrace.

She nodded, her head against his chest.

"Arwen, you must free him from his vows. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Ada. Will you write for me? I do not think I am strong enough," pleaded Arwen. "I love him so much."

"I cannot write such a letter for you. This cannot be done by letter. I must go and tell him in person. And I must return the ring of Barahir to him," replied Elrond.

Arwen clung even tighter to her father. "Don't go. Besides, how will you find him?"

"Considering the rest of the news from the South, he's either dead, and beyond my reach, or he's at the Black Gate of Mordor," replied Elrond in a grim voice.

 

* * * * * * * * *


End file.
